


The Ties That Bind

by Subtlety Lost (fishstic)



Series: Named for Andraste [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depression, F/F, Family, Found Family, Gen, I promise Andrea's got happy stories coming later, I'll be adding characters to the character list if and when they play a vital role in the fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Original Characters - Freeform, implied/referenced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishstic/pseuds/Subtlety%20Lost
Summary: It's about connections, Andrea thinks. About building: new from old; alliances on paper; bridges from words 'Welcome to the Inquisition.' About looking down before you step up. Progress is built upon compromises and agreements, on all the history that came before--even if it hurts.The future, Andrea thinks, is all of that and more. It's about love and trust; about family both new and old, born and found, made and chosen. There's so many things to do, so many people that need to be brought to Haven--or are finding their own way there.  Like it or not, Andrea knows, as the Herald of Andraste she's at the center of everything now, which means she'll need to get used to surprises.





	1. Sylvia

**Author's Note:**

> if I ever _ever_ become good at summaries, trust me, y'all will be the first to know.
> 
> UPDATE 15 March 2020: Please enjoy chapter 2! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about family, Andrea thinks. It's about life, and living, and being the one that makes it all happen. But it's not simple. Nothing's ever simple. She wasn't expecting the arrival of Josephine's mother, Sylvia, and all the complications that'll arise from it. Only time will tell if this sudden arrival heralds good things, or bad.

Andrea was aware, though mostly just in the back of her mind, that there would be more nobility visiting Haven than _just_ the DuRellions. More _important_ nobility than them as well. When she approached Josephine’s office, it was about midday, seemingly always a good time to interrupt the Ambassador for some lunch. It felt like as good a time as any to ask Josephine if she was going to need anything now that all the arrangements had been made for her meeting with the Clerics. It was that question, not the knowledge of the inevitable nobility meetings, that was on the front of her mind when she knocked once before opening the door.

Immediately, almost before the door had been fully opened, Andrea found herself enveloped in a hug by a woman smelling strongly of Antivan chocolates and roses.

“Mama Sylvia?” she asked, half muffled against the shoulder of a silken shirt and half muffled out of pure disbelief. _Am I dreaming?_ She nuzzled her head against the hugger’s shoulder, feeling their soft hand gently tangled in her hair. _Only Mama Sylvia hugs me like this._

“ _Yes_ , my precious,” the hugger replied. “I’ve been so worried about you!” The voice certainly belonged to Josephine’s mother—Lady Sylvia Allegra Montilyet—but that alone couldn’t prove she was awake. _Why would Mama Sylvia be here in Haven? Why did no one tell me she was coming?_

“Josephine has told me much,” Sylvia continued. “But I just had to come _see_ you know? Words, letters upon papers, they can only convey so much. For some things, you must trust your eyes!” She released Andrea from the hug and held her at arm’s length, eyes shining with concern. “Let me get a proper look at you.”

Andrea shivered unable to help feeling self-conscious under the kind, but somewhat judgmental, gaze of Lady Sylvia. _Can she tell I haven’t washed my hair in a week?_ She tried to think of something to say in order to explain away her current humble but disheveled state of being. _I wasn’t prepared!_ But the unexpectedness, and fear that Lady Sylvia might be angry that she wasn’t taking more care in her appearance, rendered her speechless.

“Josephine, _my baby_ ,” Sylvia said, turning her gaze away from Andrea to her daughter, who was so busy writing at her desk that she hadn’t even looked up to acknowledge Andrea’s presence.

When Andrea followed Sylvia’s gaze she noticed Sage sitting on the floor beside Josephine’s desk with a book and pencil in her hands, Sage had looked over when Andrea walked in. Andrea gave her a soft smile and Sage tapped Josephine’s desk with her left hand.

“What is it, Sage? I don’t know how to spell things in Nevarran, remember? I know you want to be busy, but you have to wait for me to finish writing the reports before you can make copies for Leliana,” Josephine said, before finally looking up when Sage whispered a single word to her. “Oh, sorry Mother, I was... busy. Hello, Andrea.” It took a good half a minute before Josephine gasped and then shook her head. “Please forgive me, Andrea, I meant to warn you my mother was coming, but when she informed me of it she was already halfway to Haven and you were still in the Hinterlands trying to... secure horses, was it? How did that go?”

“Master Dennet gave me permission to take a couple of his horses, but he refuses to send the rest until I’ve made arrangements to help his farm,” Andrea replied. “Cassandra and I killed some deranged wolves, tormented by a demon that appeared in the Breach’s wake. I’ve asked Cullen to build Watchtowers where one of Dennet’s helpers requested, to protect the farm and refugees from bandits.”

Sylvia cleared her throat, and Andrea frowned just enough to show her displeasure at the situation. She _would_ have liked to have been informed that Sylvia was coming, but considering the circumstances, it was understandable why she had not. She and Sylvia hadn’t seen each other in as long, or longer, than she’d been cut off from Josephine. There were questions she needed to ask of Sylvia, and there must also be questions Sylvia needed to ask of her. _How much of what’s happened has Josephine already informed her of? She clearly knows about Sage or she’d be questioning why there’s a child sitting beside Josephine’s desk._

“What is it you want to ask Mother?” Josephine asked.

“Why didn’t you mention Andrea’s gotten so skinny?” Sylvia replied. “She’s almost as small as she was when... Ah, that doesn’t matter. Did you not notice because she’s hiding under two layers of clothes?”

Andrea tilted her head and flashed Josephine a confused, but apologetic, smile. She’d always been small. She wasn’t hiding anything under her two shirts besides her skin from the bitter cold wind, and a bruise on her shoulder from sparring with Cassandra.

“Andrea’s always been smaller than me?” Josephine replied. “She’s taller, just because she looks different than she did a decade ago isn’t a bad thing. I haven’t noticed anything unusual even when she only wears one shirt—well other than the fact that she hardly ever wears a coat even when it’s _snowing._ She’s been... trading plump for muscle lately, could that be it?”

“Without eating enough to support that,” Sylvia argued. “That’s clear. Andrea,” she turned her attention back to Andrea. “Even with two shirts on it looks like you haven’t eaten in two weeks. Are you okay? Is the food that bad here or are you doing it on purpose? If you’re upset and need to work things out, you know there are better ways. We’ve talked about this.”

“Oh,” Andrea squeaked. “No, Mama Sylvia. It’s not like that this time. I haven’t... I don’t do that anymore. Getting completely over that was _very_ difficult, but the Chantry helped. You and Josephine helped. It’s just, food is a precious gift from the Maker and a resource the Inquisition isn’t exactly rife with at the moment. If I find that someone else hasn’t eaten in multiple days, I’ll give them my food even if I have not yet eaten today. I know what it’s like to be so hungry that you feel it in your bones. I used to force that pain on myself—as you’re already aware. I don’t want anyone to suffer that, especially unwillingly.”

“But that means you go hungry,” Josephine gasped.

Sage looked up from her journal, angling her head back in such a way that made Andrea’s neck ache a bit in sympathy. “Andrea gives me lunch when my sister forgets, Lady Josephine. Andrea gets more food than the servants. If she wants to share with them or me why is that a bad thing? Aren’t you supposed to share with people who don’t have as much as you?”

“See,” Andrea replied, then added with a hesitant chuckle, “I mean, that’s the exact thing I’m trying to figure out how to fix. If it were up to me, everyone would get the same amount of food no matter whether they’re a servant or a noble. Back home, back when I... used to not eat on purpose, Mother would always send food up to me with one of the serving girls. I would always tell that if she’s hungry, she should eat the food instead because I wasn’t going to eat it. Mother would get mad if it was brought back untouched, but if no one ate it it would go to waste and that was not good. After a while, the servant told my mother. Do you remember that, Mama Sylvia?”

“I do,” Sylvia replied. “It was less than a year after you first met Josephine at your Great-Aunt’s party. She informed me of what was going on, and I advised her to give the serving girl a single extra piece of fruit, a small piece of cheese, and a bread roll, in addition to the stuff she normally sent up there. And to request the serving girl inform you that your mother said that if ‘Andrea doesn’t eat these three little things, then there is no reason for me to keep sending the food.’”

“I remember I started eating those three things, and giving the serving girl the rest of the food as normal. Later, before she died, mother told me that she was proud of me for making sure that serving girl ate my food so it wouldn’t go to waste. The serving girl grew healthier and happier because of the extra food and was always willing to do me a favor. Mother said that I should chase my dream to become Divine, because someone like me would be the best person for the job.”

“In the end,” Sylvia said, “what matters right now is that Andrea should be given more food. If she’s going to be giving it away, she should be given enough that she still has some left. But perhaps, slightly more important than that is the question of why the children are going without food.”

“Rose is in charge of my food,” Sage offered, turning her head to look at Sylvia. “My older sister, she’s a soldier and she takes care of me. She’s supposed to find me every day and let me know to come with her to get food, but sometimes she forgets or can’t find me, or is too busy. I’m too scared to go get the food by myself, I don’t know the people she gets it from. I don’t know who they are... or like... how to ask, or anything like that. Rose knows all that for me. The other kids probably have parents or sisters too, that are supposed to get their food for them. The ones that don’t... well, shouldn’t the Inquisition or Chantry specifically have a person in charge of making sure those people get their food too?”

“In Ostwick’s Chantry, that person was me,” Andrea replied. “Here, well, unfortunately it _can’t_ be me, even as much as I try to make it my job. I’m not always around, and... to be completely honest, I don’t know where the food comes from either. I join Cassandra for meals and when I don’t eat, I save my food for the people I know need it. We usually go to the Tavern.”

“I’m not allowed in there without Rose,” Sage countered. “I’m not old enough. If that’s where the food comes from, then even if I wanted to get it by myself I couldn’t.”

”You’re not old enough to go in the tavern?” Andrea asked.

“No,” Sage replied. “Not old enough. I was four during the Blight ten years ago? I thought adults were supposed to know how to do math.”

Andrea blushed and gave a hesitant chuckle. _I forgot she told me that._ “But your sister is?”

“Yes, Rose is 15 years older than me, she’s been old enough for a long long time,” Sage replied.

“Your sister is... 15 years older than you?” Josephine gasped.

“That’s not strange,” Andrea replied. “Tomas is 15 years older than I am.”

“Yes, but you have multiple siblings in between you and Tomas,” Josephine replied, “Sage only has her sister.”

“I have a baby brother,” Sage replied. “Rose... never mentions him, I think it makes her sad, so I never talk about him either. I don’t want her to know I remember him in case thinking about him hurts because he probably died with our parents.”

“It’s still unusual, Sage, that your older sister is that much older than you, with there being no siblings in between,” Josephine said. “Do you not remember having any other older siblings?”

Sage shook her head. “No, it’s always just been me and Rose and baby brother, I think his name was Basil, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Is Rose your sister’s name or a nickname?” Andrea asked.

“Short,” Sage replied. “Rosemary is long.”

Andrea looked from Sage to Sylvia, noticing then that it seemed as though Sylvia had something on her mind. “What is it, Mama Sylvia? What are you thinking?”

“Why must the children of the Inquisition go hungry if they are relying upon the Inquisition and Chantry to feed them? Surely no one is expecting the children to purchase or grow their own food?” Sylvia replied. “Why does the Inquisition not adequately care for its weakest members?”

“Did you completely ignore the part where the Inquisition isn’t exactly rife with supplies at the moment, Mother?” Josephine replied. “We have no trade alliances to speak of and must rely upon solely what we can purchase from the few merchants willing to deal with us, and donations from whomever does not believe us to be merely a band of heretics.”

“It’s nonsense that you believe the Inquisition to lack trading partners,” Sylvia replied. “You are a Montilyet child, use your influence. If our partners are not willing to work with the Inquisition then they are not worthy of continued alliance. These are difficult times, _my baby,_ and we must do whatever is necessary to protect the ones who need it most. If trying to ply the Montilyet influence in favor of the Inquisition costs the Montilyets some allies, then good riddance to them, anyone who disagrees that children must be fed and the Breach must be closed is likely hiding something.”

Andrea chuckled and Josephine glared at her and mouthed, “This is serious.”

“Mother, we have few enough alliances that losing any more than one of them could bankrupt our family completely. We’d lose everything if attempting to turn our alliances to the Inquisition’s favor goes incorrectly.”

Sylvia nodded. “We’ve been through worse, Josephine. Our ancestors thought that our trade banishment from Orlais would ruin us, yet we are still here. I want you to at least try. Now is not the time to be fainthearted and skeptical in order to try to save our family. These children are the future, Josephine. If the Inquisition hopes to do anything, the children must be fed. The children must be allowed to grow up. You cannot hope to change the future if you do not allow the children to grow old enough to see the future.”

Andrea frowned, seeing clearly that this argument would have no winner as neither Sylvia nor Josephine would be willing to back down from their position. They were both concerned about the future, though Josephine was concerned about the more immediately possible future of her family losing everything they owned, while Sylvia was worried that children might starve—something Andrea would never allow. “If I may be so bold as to interrupt, if you’re unwilling to use the Montilyet name, let me send word to my aunts, Marie and Helen. Helen runs a farm, and Marie is married to a wealthy merchant with trading ties to many places across the Free Marches, Rivain, and Ferelden. Even if it angers Tomas, they would be willing to assist the Inquisition, if not because they believe in our cause, then because they love me.”

Josephine opened her mouth to reply then stopped, shook her head, and said, “I was not aware you’re on speaking terms with any of your family other than Jack.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Leliana said too,” Andrea replied. “I believe I blame Tomas for this false information. I know my aunts, I love them both dearly and they both love me. Don’t tell Cassandra I said this, but if the argument over Commander comes down to a supposed necessity for a Templar to lead Templars, then I’d recommend my cousin Olivia, Marie’s oldest daughter, instead of Commander Cullen. Olivia is—was—Knight-Commander of Ostwick before the circles fell, I believe her current position is head of the City Guard? Or assisting the Guard Captain? I’m not one hundred percent sure, but she has experience.”

“Would you like me to draft up a formal request for their help?” Josephine asked.

“I’ll let Sage do it,” Andrea replied and at the confused look both Sage and Josephine gave her, she continued, “I mean, let me borrow Sage for it. I don’t have the best handwriting, but Sage has great handwriting from what I’ve seen. I’ll tell her what to write, and she can write it for me. But that can be done later.” She turned back to Sylvia. “Mama Sylvia, I’m sure Josephine is very busy, perhaps we should leave her to her work? We can head to my... cabin... to catch up. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to talk, just the two of us. Or we could go get drinks at the Tavern with Jack, I’d wager you haven’t spoken to him in years either. Or—”

“Andrea,” Josephine interrupted shaking her head, “did you come here for a reason?”

Andrea blushed and half-way chuckled. “It’s uhh... marginally warmer in here than outside?” she offered. “I came to quietly enjoy your company while reading the book I’d left in here.”

“Ah, so you’re the one who left Varric’s ‘Tale of the Champion’ in here?” Josephine asked. “I apologize, but I lent that to Sage. I didn’t realize it was yours, Andrea. I’m sure Sage will give it back to you if you ask.”

“It’s okay, you can read the book Sage, you’ll probably finish it faster than I would,” Andrea replied as Sage started to search her messenger bag for the book. “I had also meant to ask if you need anything from Val Royeaux.”

“You’re actually following Mother Giselle’s suggestion?”

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “Like I said before that meeting, some of the names on the list are people I know from my time working with Revered Mother Emmaline. I’ll be heading to Val Royeaux soon with Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, to speak with them. We’ll be leaving in a few days. I’m hoping if I speak with them, I can convince at least some of the clerics that I didn’t kill the Divine. I wanted to see before I left if you, personally, needed anything. I thought I’d ask a couple days in advance in case you needed time to think before preparing a list.”

Josephine nodded with a smile on her face that reached her eyes and made Andrea’s heart flutter at the pure beauty of it. “I shall make you a list.”

Andrea smiled back and rested her hand on Sylvia’s arm. “I would be very grateful if you did. If you don’t mind, Sylvia and I are going to leave you and Sage alone to complete your work without us as a distraction.” As she spoke she gently tried to get Sylvia to head toward the door with her.

“I would appreciate that,” Josephine replied. “Please go with her, Mother. I’m very busy right now and Andrea is likely dying for a chance to spend a few hours talking to you, the way the two of you _used_ to talk when we would visit her.”

Sylvia nodded and patted Andrea’s arm affectionately. “Right! Let’s go then. Good luck with your paperwork, _my baby,_ try not to work yourself to death while we are gone.”

—

The first thing Sylvia said to Andrea when they had left the Chantry was, “Haven is so cold, it’s a wonder anything can survive here.”

“It’s not that cold. It’s winter,” Andrea replied, as if it would be any warmer in Haven during the spring or summer, ignoring that it was nestled in a valley in a place called ‘The Frostback Mountains.’

Sylvia sighed, shook her head, and made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “I should remember who I am talking to. You’re practically made of snow. Used to complain the summers in Ostwick were so hot and humid that you might melt.”

“I also used to sleep with a glass bowl full of ice next to my bed,” Andrea noted. “I would tell anyone that asked ‘if the ice is melted when I wake up, it’s too hot for me to leave my room.’ A couple years ago, Jack admitted to me that when he still lived at home, he and mom would put fresh ice in the bowl just before sunrise—which was when I’d wake up—in order to convince me to leave my room.”

Sylvia nodded though she did not comment. After a moment, she rubbed her hands together and looked up at Leliana’s tent. “Who is the Elf with Sister Leliana?”

Andrea started to reply then stopped. “How do you know Leliana?”

“She and Josephine are friends, remember? Josephine introduced me to her a while after they met,” Sylvia replied.

Andrea nodded, wishing she’d been in contact with Josephine enough to have met Leliana before the Conclave. It might have saved her from a whole lot of threats and angry looks. She glanced at Leliana in her tent and saw that she was speaking with Meiriana, though she couldn’t hear what they were speaking about and neither woman seemed to notice that she and Sylvia were talking about them. “That’s Meiriana Mahariel. If you’ve met Leliana then you’ve probably heard about her.”

“I believe Leliana spoke more of your cousin Ella, than anyone,” Sylvia replied. “However, it was several years ago, and only the one time, she might have mentioned her and it just didn’t stand out to me. She must be important if you know her by name.”

“She’s the Hero of Ferelden,” Andrea replied. “Requested by the Divine for... her... I don’t know. She’s a mage, I think. The Divine likely thought she could help in some way. I hear she stopped the Blight and that our soldiers, even the former Templars, respect her immensely.”

“Odd then that she’s working for your Spymaster,” Sylvia replied. “Do you suppose Justinia requested the Hero thinking she’d receive Ella?”

“It’s likely,” Andrea replied. “All the Wardens, that fought in the Battle of Denerim, received the title Hero of Ferelden but from what I understand Meiriana is the only one that still uses it. It lends legitimacy to her position, I think, considering she’d have next to nothing to lean on as a Dalish Elf, even if she is a Grey-Warden. Ella is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and the other Wardens all have important business to attend to. Meiriana is here because the Divine requested the Hero and Leliana brought Meiriana. Whether that was a wise decision, or solely happened because Ella was too busy with her Warden-Commander duties to attend, I’m not at liberty to say. I wasn’t there for that discussion.”

“If Ella were here, she wouldn’t stand for the indignity of just being Leliana’s assistant,” Sylvia noted.

Andrea shook her head. “Meiriana is more than _just_ Leliana’s assistant,” she replied. “She’s also part of the Inquisition’s inner circle, a source of inspiration and advice for our troops, and Leliana’s girlfriend.”

“She gives you advice?” Sylvia asked.

“When I request it of her.” She shrugged and motioned them onward when she realized Sylvia was shivering. “She doesn’t tend to offer it unsolicited.”

Sylvia nodded, but nothing further was said until they were approaching the steps leading to the lower section of Haven where Andrea’s cottage was. At the top of the steps, was a fire where Varric normally spent his time when he wasn’t either out in the field with her or in the tavern. Standing by that fire was Varric conversing with, of all people, Jack.

“Can’t keep a secret like that for long in Haven, kid,” Varric said as they approached. “Especially not when one of the people you’re trying to keep it from just walked up. Good afternoon, Andrea, you look well.”

Jack turned to face Andrea so quickly that for a second she thought he was going to fall over. He stuttered out something sounding a bit like an excuse before he noticed Sylvia. “Mama Sylvia! It’s been too long, you look stunning as usual. How long has it been since we last spoke? Something like... five years? How have you been?”

“You’re deflecting away from whatever you’re hiding from your sister, Alexander Jacques Trevelyan, and I do not appreciate that. You’d better have good reason for trying to keep a secret,” Sylvia replied. “There’s too many secrets in Haven.”

Jack shook his head. “Really Mama Sylvia it’s not important.”

“ _Alexander,”_ she warned.

Andrea stepped away from them, moving closer to Varric. “I am not getting involved in this argument,” she whispered to Varric. “Jack can’t win, no one wins arguments with Lady Sylvia.”

“The ambassador’s mother certainly lives up to her reputation,” Varric replied. “Do all parental figures that might show up in Haven match the reputation that precedes them, I wonder.”

“Varric don’t,” Jack whined.

Andrea blinked and narrowed her eyes at Jack. “Who is coming, brother?”

“No one!” he protested. “It’s not important!”

“ _Alex,_ ” Sylvia warned again.

Andrea winced, she _hated_ when Sylvia used that short version of Jack’s given name. It had always been weird enough that her parents had named two of their children—Jack (Alexander) and Sandra (Alexandra)—after her mother’s father, considering that he had the same name as her father’s brother, but it was worse to hear Sylvia use the short version that generally only applied to their uncle.

“Mama Sylvia, please don’t call me that name. You know how much it upsets Andrea when you do... you probably even know _why_ it upsets her. I don’t know why it does but I _hate_ seeing her get upset over it,” Jack replied. “Father is coming, I don’t want anyone angry over this, so I wasn’t going to tell anyone if Varric didn’t think it would be a problem. I thought I’d ask him before telling anyone about it because he knows the people of the Inquisition better than I do, and could judge their possible reactions better than me.”

Varric nodded. “See, kid, that wasn’t so hard. Look, Andrea, Lady Sylvia, as far as I can tell nothing we do will stop Edgar Trevelyan from showing up in Haven, short of maybe destroying the village—which isn’t an option. It’s probably best then that only as many people as necessary—likely just Leliana, Cassandra, and Lady Josephine—be informed before he arrives. For the rest, his arrival would be no different than any other visiting noble. While we’re on the subject, no offense to the old man but the last I’d heard he was dead. Clearly that’s not true.”

Andrea and Jack exchanged a confused look before Andrea replied, “Clearly not.”

“Probably wishes he was,” Jack added, “with how humiliating it must have been for him to lose the duel to Tomas.”

“Why _did_ Tomas challenge Edgar for the throne?” Sylvia asked. “All I know of it is that Edgar’s mother and I were talking with Edgar one day about... a deal, and then a few days later Tomas had forced Edgar from the throne and the deal never came to pass. It’s odd, I always thought Tomas and Edgar got along like a fish in water.”

“Why does any tyrant—” Andrea shook her head to clear it of the angry thoughts she’d been about to say. “Tomas is power hungry. Everything he’s ever done, he did because he hates not being able to boss people around.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Actually, the reason is more complex than that... I don’t think discussing it so publicly is... a good idea. However, I don’t have time to discuss it in private right away. Solas promised to teach me the healing spell he used to slow the mark’s growth. I don’t want to be late for that.”

“Chuckles? Teaching? I didn’t take him for the type,” Varric replied. “Go on then, don’t leave him waiting or he might change his mind.”

As Jack headed off, Sylvia shook her head. “I think the Circle made him a bit paranoid,” she mused, “but at heart he’ll always be the same kindhearted boy I used to watch over.”

“Well,” Varric said. “Have any idea why your father might be coming here, Andrea? I wouldn’t want to bother anyone trying to stop or even delay his arrival if you don’t think there’s malicious intent involved. If Tomas were sending someone to spy on the Inquisition for him, I doubt he’d send your father, that’s a bit too high profile for a spy.”

Andrea shook her head. “It’s hard to tell with Father. He does... odd things sometimes. I’m not concerned about his arrival. If it were going to be an issue that I can’t handle by hiding behind Cassandra and her sword, then I might be more concerned. I’ll make sure Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra are adequately prepared for his arrival, I don’t want any surprises or to take any chances. But, if there’s one thing I know to be true about Father, he knows how to handle diplomacy and status. He won’t do anything that would bring shame or harm to the Trevelyan family as a whole.”

“Are you sure doing nothing is wise?” Sylvia asked.

“No one has ever accused me of being wise before, Mama Sylvia,” Andrea replied. “As I said, he won’t do anything that would bring shame to the family. I’m warning the Inner Circle, that’s not ‘doing nothing.’ Besides, it won’t do any good if I mess up my meeting with the clerics worrying about Father’s arrival the whole time.”

Sylvia narrowed her eyes and frowned but otherwise did not reply, though Andrea could tell right away this meant she was not willing to drop the conversation completely.

“I’m sorry to move on so quickly Varric, but Sylvia and I have some things to discuss in private,” Andrea said. “I’ll be back sometime to speak to you again, because I was reading The Tale of the Champion and I know I’ll have questions. It might take a while before I can ask them though, Josephine lent my copy to Sage and I don’t know how quickly Sage reads but I know I’m... rather slow at reading. I’d only just gotten to the part where Laika traveled to Sundermount for the first time. Is the Dalish clan she met there, really the same one Meiriana grew up in?”

Varric nodded. “For what it’s worth, I think your father has more to fear from Sylvia here, or your cousin Ella, than Leliana or Cassandra. Just the thought that he might upset Sylvia probably scares him. From what I’ve heard of him, he doesn’t seem the kind to be bothered by vague threats. You’re a slow reader? I would never have guessed, with you having been a Chantry sister and all.”

“It took me three and a half years to read the Chant all the way through,” Andrea replied. “You didn’t answer my question, is it the same clan?”

“Yes, I can tell you that without spoiling anything,” Varric replied. “Merrill had some... interesting stories to tell about our resident Hero, though I’m not sure if I completely understood all of them, Daisy wasn’t too good at linear storytelling. If I understood them correctly, she and Meiriana were—”

“We were in love,” Meiriana interrupted from the top of the retaining wall beside them. “I’ve learned there is a value in discretion that Merrill is not aware of. I would hope, Varric, that you’re a man of honor and will share these stories Merrill told with me, before you accidentally start spreading things that might not be true.”

Andrea stifled a chuckle as Varric flashed her and Sylvia an apologetic smile. “Sorry ladies, it looks like I have a more interested audience for my tales. With Griffon’s permission, I might be able to share them with you later.”

Andrea nodded as Varric turned to walk away. “See you later, Varric.”

Sylvia was strangely silent as Andrea led her the rest of the way to her cottage. After letting her inside, however, Sylvia immediately spoke. “Why are you just going to ignore your father coming here?”

“Again with that? Mama Sylvia I am _not_ ignoring this,” Andrea replied. “I am _not_ going to waste resources trying to prevent this, but I am certainly not doing _nothing_. I’m warning Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine about it. There’s no need to bother Commander Cullen unless there’s a chance Father would try to start an argument of some kind with him, and I doubt Father will do that. That’s all I _can_ do about it, warn the people in charge. In case you forgot, Mama Sylvia, I am _not_ the... what’s the word for the person who leads the Inquisition again... Inquisitor? I’m not the Inquisitor. I’m not in charge. I can offer advice and gain allies, but I mostly do what the others tell me to.”

As they headed further into Andrea’s sleeping area, the bird Leliana had lent her ruffled its feathers indignantly over by the window, seeming almost annoyed that Andrea hadn’t left the window unlocked and open. She walked over, scratched the top of the bird’s head, and whispered to it, “Find me Edgar Trevelyan’s location. She opened the window and the bird flew out.

“Andrea,” Sylvia said moving over to the bed as Andrea turned back to face her after closing, but not locking, the window. “The man hurt you, are you sure not trying to do anything to prevent or delay his arrival is wise? What’s to say he wouldn’t try that again?”

“First, Mama Sylvia, Father never hurt me,” she replied. “I don’t want anyone to hurt him. I don’t want you to do anything about him. I love you, but I promise whatever you think he did to me, you’re overreacting.”

Sylvia frowned and sighed deeply. “You’re disappointing me, Andrea. I know you believe that your father never hurt you, but there’s more ways than just physically to hurt someone.”

Andrea leaned backwards against her table, gripping the edge so hard that her knuckles began aching. “I know that,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Don’t you think I _already know that?_ Sylvia, most of my life has been dealing with that fact. My father is not the big villain you wish he is. I’m sorry, but that’s just the truth.”

“Don’t lie to me, Andrea,” Sylvia replied.

Andrea sighed. She wasn’t lying. Her father wasn’t as evil as some of her other relatives. He was cold, distant and neglectful sometimes, sure, but he had never hit her or raped her the way her uncle and some of his friends had. However, he’d never really bothered to stop any of the things he knew were happening to her. In her opinion, the worst he’d ever done to her was make her feel like a disappointment for caring about her appearance.

“I’m not lying, Mama Sylvia,” Andrea replied, but she wasn’t sure if she really believed it anymore. “He’s not... a bad man. He hasn’t done half the things his... brother has.”

“He just won’t lift a finger to help his most vulnerable child,” Sylvia hissed. “Which is just as bad.”

Andrea shook her head. “He just expects that his children can take care of themselves.”

“Your father _is_ a bad man,” Sylvia insisted, “because he knew you were being hurt. He knew that you weren’t capable of protecting yourself and that your siblings weren’t protecting you either. He did nothing. He knew what your uncle was doing to you—”

Andrea paled and shook her head. _He can’t have known. He’d have executed Alex for it... wouldn’t he? Who told him? If he knew, why didn’t he do anything?_ She shivered, missing part of Sylvia’s rant.

“—because he blamed you for your mother’s death, even knowing how much she meant to you. He _knew_ your mother was sick for quite a long time before you caught the same illness. She didn’t tell anyone at the Chantry that she was sick because she didn’t want them to separate you from her, she didn’t think you would understand. She knew you were hurting already and didn’t know why. She thought if the two of you got separated, you would think you were in trouble somehow. Your father _knew_ that, and blamed you anyway.”

Andrea shivered again, thought stuck in her head of just. _He knew about uncle Alex? Who told?_ She walked over and sat down on the bed beside Sylvia. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Who told him? I don’t understand how he knew.”

Sylvia put one hand gently on Andrea’s knee and rested the other reassuringly on her arm. “What do you mean, Andrea _my precious?_ Didn’t you tell him?”

Andrea shook her head. “No,” she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. “I was scared. Uncle Alex would have killed me if I’d told. It was supposed to be a secret, just between us. I only... you’re the only person I ever told and that was only because it would keep it from happening to Josie. I never told anyone else. I didn’t tell my father. I didn’t tell Jack. I didn’t even tell Josie.”

“ _Shit._ Precious, if you didn’t tell him, then he most likely _doesn’t_ actually know,” Sylvia replied. “I had assumed that you had told him and for some reason he didn’t do anything about it. I had no idea that I was the only one who knew.” She shook her head. “I got into an argument with him about people hitting you, that’s how I _know_ he knows about that. His whole defense for not doing something about that was that he couldn’t stop it if no one ever did it when he was around to see it. Maker Andrea, you really never told him? He likely has no idea what happened at your Great-Aunt’s parties or when you would stay with your cousins?”

Andrea shook her head. “I was scared,” she replied in a tone somewhere between a whine and a whimper.

“Who does know?” Sylvia replied. “If not your father, Jack, or my precious Josephine. Who if anyone, other than me, who does actually?”

“Tomas and Uncle Alex,” Andrea replied. “I.... I think Ruka knew, but she’s so terrified of her father after what he let be done to her and Elissa. I doubt she would have said anything. Maker knows Alex and Tomas wouldn’t have told, Alex was and is Tomas’ biggest supporter. He trained Tomas for the duel against our father. Alex told me this was our little secret. I don’t think he would have told anyone, especially since he would have been executed for the crime. I... well... there were his friends... when I was younger and didn’t know any better than to just do whatever he told me to, sometimes he would have some friends...” She bit her lip not quite aware of how much she was trembling until Sylvia pulled her into a hug and whispered for her to try to breathe.

Andrea took a couple deep breaths as she pressed her forehead against Sylvia’s shoulder. “Are you mad at me, Mama Sylvia?”

“Why would I be mad at you, precious? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sylvia replied.

“Because I didn’t tell anyone,” Andrea whined.

“What would have happened if you told?” Sylvia replied.

“Uncle Alex would have killed me, if Father didn’t kill him first,” Andrea replied.

Sylvia blinked, and it was a moment before she replied, “You think your father would have killed your uncle for raping you?”

Andrea nodded, wincing at the wording even if it was the truth, it was just such a blunt wording. She sat up. “He would have. Even if it wasn’t because he loves me or because I’m his daughter,” she replied with a small insincere smile on her face. “In Ostwick, the laws are such that it’s _illegal_ and punishable by execution or indefinite imprisonment to force sex upon _anyone_ but _especially_ anyone under the age of 16. Anyone unable to consent. ‘Unable to consent’ covers things like being asleep, drugged, drunk, or under the age of 20. There’s an odd spot in the law to account for the age group of older teens. In the age group that covers age 16 through 20, it’s not illegal within the age group unless it breaks some other part of the ‘unable to consent’ thing. If an adult, someone who is older than 20, willingly and knowingly breaks this law the punishment is, as I said, execution or being thrown in the dungeon for an amount of time determined by several factors.”

“How do you know this law in so much detail?” Sylvia asked. “It’s awfully specific.”

“Try not to forget that I have exactly one sibling other than Tomas that isn’t either a Templar or a Mage and she is married to a Pentaghast and living in Nevarra. Before I rejoined the Chantry, Tomas and I were the sole heirs. If anything happened to him and father, I would be the one to take the throne,” Andrea replied. “All of the Teyrn’s children and heirs are supposed to learn the laws, but I had to take the lessons more seriously. I learned the laws, the issues, and quite a bit about the economy of Ostwick. Knowing that I wanted to rejoin the Chantry, I convinced Mama Trevelyan to help me teach Ruka all these laws and things as well. If I were on the throne, Ruka would be my heir technically. She’s the oldest of all my cousins that _isn’t_ a Templar or mage. She’s also Tomas’ heir. I’m not sure how seriously she actually took that information. She did let me teach her, so she must have understood how seriously I took it.”

“Did you learn the history of the laws?” Sylvia asked. “It’s really interesting hearing you speak of this. I don’t think you ever told me about your education before.”

“Father forced Papa Trevelyan to create that specific law,” Andrea replied, “because of what happened to Aunt Marie’s oldest children, the kids she had before her first husband—Francis? I think that was his name?—was killed. When Olivia, her husband Lucien’s first child, wasn’t even two years old. Olivia had two older siblings, a brother who was I think Mama Trevelyan said he was a teen, she didn’t say a specific age, and a sister who wasn’t even ten yet. They were both adopted, because her first husband couldn’t sire children, but that didn’t matter to Marie, she loved them both. Olivia slept in the same room as her older sister. One night, her brother and his friend who was older than him snuck into their room and raped the older sister while she slept. Mama Trevelyan didn’t tell me whose idea it was, I’m thinking the older friend, probably.”

She shivered again, as she paused to collect her thoughts, but was thankful that Sylvia hadn’t interrupted her. There were a lot of details that she’d need to recount to give Sylvia the full picture of why the law existed. The history of the laws had always interested her, so she did have enough information to explain it all.

“Olivia woke up that night because of the noise and started crying out. She probably wanted her sister to come comfort her. When Olivia continued crying for a long time without her sister coming to her aid, Aunt Marie was forced to go check on her. She found the brother and his friend in bed with the older sister who was crying and hitting them, trying to get them to stop hurting her. The only good thing about the situation was that the two boys were so busy fighting with the older sister, trying to stop her from escaping them and alerting Olivia’s father, that they didn’t realize the baby was crying too. If they had, they probably would have either ran away or killed Olivia trying to make her stop crying.

“Unfortunately, the older sister didn’t survive for very long after that night. She got really sick, some kind of infection or something as a result of either the rape or the fight. Her brother hasn’t been seen since, I don’t know if he was killed, exiled, jailed, or what, but the friend was arrested for... trespassing. They couldn’t figure out how to prove that what the friend did was the reason that she died. It infuriated Marie and Father. Actually... thinking about all this, and remembering how old Olivia is... I wouldn’t have been born yet, but Father did have several children already. Tomas, Evelyn, Sandra, Anthony, and the twins. Tomas would have only been ten, which meant Father had _a lot_ of small kids, about the same age as Marie’s kids. He and Mother were so scared for their kids, from what Mama Trevelyan said. They all were. If that could happen to Marie’s kids, it could happen to _any_ kids.

“Aunt Marie got super protective of her children until Olivia started Templar training. Father threatened a coup if Papa Trevelyan didn’t enact the law he drafted. Papa Trevelyan enacted the law then _stepped down_ and told Father that he had proven himself more fit to rule Ostwick by drafting that law, by seeing a problem and stepping up to fix it. Alex was opposed to the law due to the difficulty of ‘proving’ that the crime actually happened. Mama Trevelyan says that Alex’s children: Ruka, Allan, Elissa, and Aydan—specifically she excludes Kendra all the time because ‘she’s just like her father’—are the only good thing that he’s ever put into the world.”

She paused for a moment, thinking and remembering what Mama Trevelyan had told her in later lessons, about Edgar's reign. "Mama Trevelyan said the support came more from the lower class. On the other side, several prominent nobles were against it, same as Alex."

"Why?" Sylvia interrupted. "You'd think the lower classes would believe the law easily exploited by the nobility _against_ them, not the other way around."

"Because of Father's enforcement of the law," Andrea stated. "He enforced it equally and fairly, not giving preference to the nobility. In most cases, he ended up declaring accused nobles guilty. Often, despite what Alex had claimed about 'burden of proof' or however he'd worded his argument, there was clear evidence of the accused's guilt. Rarely was a case brought up where it was possible that people were being accused simply because of rivalry.” 

She paused, giving Sylvia a moment to ask any questions, before continuing, "In cases where children were involved, Father was strict and his justice came without mercy. Often, he only needed to see how frightened the child was at sight of the accused, or hear them struggle with wording what happened to them--children often lack the words to explain this kind of thing, you saw that for yourself when I was 13 and trying to explain to you why you needed to keep Josie far far away from Alex. There were even cases brought up of servants having been raped by the nobles they served. Father ruled in favor of the servants most of the time, as they had more to lose from a false accusation."

"Servants would bring this up?" Sylvia asked. "On their own?"

"Not generally on their own," Andrea replied. "Usually backed either by someone from the Chantry, or another noble, who offered them shelter. Sometimes by other servants who had also been hurt by that noble. Once, it was by the noble's own son.”

“Your father... what happened to him, that changed him so much?” Sylvia asked.

“Mother died,” Andrea replied. “When mother died, it was like part of Father died with her. This law isn’t something he’s ever going to budge on though. It’s the main reason he was on the throne. Mama Trevelyan says that Tomas has made a lot of people angry because this law isn’t something he deals with personally, he’s left enforcement of it up to the Captain of the Guard.”

“I wonder if your father would have treated you differently if he’d known what Alex was doing,” Sylvia mused.

Andrea shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she said, “Tomas always told me that Father let me get hurt because he thought if I didn’t want to be hurt, I’d fight back.” She shivered slightly even though it wasn’t cold in her room. “I always wanted to make Father happy after mother died. Like I said, when she died it was like part of him died with her. I think it was the part that loved me. He was always so proud of Sandra and Liz, I wanted to be like them. I thought it would make him happy. I put effort into making myself look nice like they did. It... made things worse. He acted like he felt I was trying to replace my mom. She taught us how to take care of ourselves. When I was little, he used to say I looked just like my mom. He was always happy when he said that too. It made mom so happy to hear him be so proud of me. To hear him say ‘when she laughs, she sounds like you,’ to hear him say that I had her grace, and that he thought I could charm even Empress Celene off the throne if I wanted.”

She chuckled dryly. “The part of him that died with mother was the same part that broke a man’s fingers for touching my dress after I told him to ‘go away.’ It’s sad, really, to think about it. I loved Father at some point in my life. And he loved me. And then he didn’t.”

Sylvia nodded. “Is that why you think he’s not a bad man? Because he used to love you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if what Tomas said is true,” Andrea replied, not quite a direct answer to Sylvia’s question. “That Father was letting me get hurt. You said he told you he couldn’t do anything about the people hurting me because he never saw it happen. I never told him about it either. Every time I tried to get him to talk to me after Mother died, he’d get really upset. I reminded him too much of her, he wanted me to be more like him, so that he could look at me without thinking of her. But I couldn’t change who I am. I want to believe that Father still does love me, he’s just not good at showing it anymore because he’s still hurting. You know he and mother were together for nearly 40 years. It takes a lifetime to get over losing a love like that, if it’s even possible. I think it hurts him to remember that if Mother had just, let me be alone for a little while—had let them separate us long enough for her to get the illness treated—, she might still be alive.”

“You think that’s why he blames you for her death then? Because it hurts him too much to think that she would have rather been with you til the bitter end than be separated from you for even just a matter of a few days?”

“I don’t think mother thought the illness could be cured,” Andrea replied. “When I caught it too, the Chantry requested she let the healers _try_ to help me. To let them _see_ if it was something they could treat. She was so scared. She agreed to let them try. I remember her telling me that she was sorry, she never meant to get me sick, that she didn’t want us being together to be the reason I die. She spent her last moments praying to the Maker to spare me from the pain, that if the healers couldn’t help, to at least make my death quicker and less painful than hers.”

She bit her lip then said, “If it didn’t have a lot to do with Mother, it’s possible that part of the problem was that once I was old enough to defend myself, not doing so made me... less desirable as a Trevelyan. Aside from you, no one would offer a marriage proposal for a child that fails at so many of what people see as core Trevelyan traits. There’s a reason our family motto is ‘modest in temper, bold in deed.’ I embodied none of that. He might have thought helping me would hurt my chances of ever finding a husband. It’s possible that he thought helping me would make either me or him seem weak. I was, at some point, the ideal heir to the throne in every aspect except willingness to deal with violence and infighting in a swift and direct manner. In father’s words, I’d always treated politics like a game that could be solved with words and strategy, even in situations where well timed poison or a well placed knife were the only solution that wouldn’t lead to unnecessary deaths.”

“If your brother had so many opinions of people’s actions regarding you, what was his opinion of what Alex was doing then?”

“He told me that Alex was trying to teach me to like men, in order to prevent me from having to deal with the same consequences that Elissa and Ruka were dealing with due to their openness with their dislike for the concept of men,” Andrea replied. “He claimed that Alex was teaching me the proper way for men and women to interact. That I should ‘get used to’ it, and ‘accept it’ because some day I would be married to a man and I’d have to please him. He told me if I refused Alex’s lessons, the same bad things that happened to Ruka and Elissa would happen to me.”

“Tomas doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you,” Sylvia said. “Why does he even know about all of this?”

“Ostensibly,” Andrea replied, “what I was told was that he walked in on it one day, sometime within a year and a half of mother’s death. I don’t remember anything more than hearing him and Alex arguing in another room. When I later asked him about it, and if he was going to tell anyone about what he’d seen, he told me if I asked ‘another stupid question’ he’d inform _everyone_ that I’d kissed Josephine. I was young enough I thought kissing was supposed to be a secret. I didn’t care that his argument was probably meant to be more about the fact that I’d kissed _a girl_ , I thought the issue was specifically that I’d kissed _Josephine_. We were kids, kids don’t kiss kids. Only adults kiss people. It was... something really stupid in my head. I thought you wouldn’t let Josephine be my friend anymore if you found out that I’d kissed her. Even if I tried to explain why I’d done that.”

“If this was so soon after your mother died, you wouldn’t have known Josephine for very long,” Sylvia noted. “Why _did_ you kiss her?”

“She asked me to. We were reading books, Evelyn’s books that she kept in her room, and in one of them a couple kissed. Josephine said that the way it was written made it sound like the lady had thought it was the best thing to ever happen to her. I told Josephine that I knew how to kiss people, she never asked me _why_ I knew how to do that, but you can probably figure that one out. Then she asked me to show her. To let her see if it’s as nice as the book claimed. She wanted to know if she’d like it too.”

“Did she like it?” Sylvia mused.

“Well, considering she’s let me kiss her at least ten times since then, I’d say she probably did,” Andrea replied.

Sylvia laughed. “I’m not sure I needed to know that, precious.”

“But you asked!” Andrea protested, also laughing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell Josephine about what happened to you?” Sylvia asked.

Andrea frowned, wishing that the topic wouldn’t have come back to that. “Because I was scared she wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore if she knew. Because I was scared she’d tell someone. Alex would kill me if anyone found out, remember?”

“Why not tell her now? You’re both adults, I’m sure she’d understand.” Sylvia pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Andrea’s head, the way she used to when Andrea was younger and afraid. “Alex isn’t here, he won’t find out that you told her. Besides that, if he attempts to openly attack the Herald of Andraste—Chantry support or no, he risks igniting a holy war. You are part of the Chantry, even if they refuse to accept that at the moment. You have more supporters than they would care to admit, and that should be enough deterrent to keep your uncle from attacking.”

“It’s stupid, but I’m still afraid she’ll hate me,” Andrea replied. “What if I tell her and she gets mad that I hid it for so long? What if she doesn’t understand why I kept it a secret? What if she thinks I thought she wouldn’t understand? What if she thinks I think she’s dumb? I don’t think she’s dumb. What if she doesn’t understand that I was trying to keep her safe? What if she’s offended that I felt I _needed_ to defend her? What if she thinks I don’t trust her? It’s possible she won’t understand that the reason I didn’t tell her is because I’m genuinely afraid Alex will kill me if she even _accidentally_ let it slip that I told her. I can’t remember a time that I’ve lived without this fear.”

“The fear that Josephine will hate you?” Sylvia asked. “Or the fear that Alex will kill you?”

“That Alex will kill me,” Andrea replied. “You’ve met him,” she added. “You know what he was willing to do to _his own children_ when they turned out different than he’d expected. When I was old enough to figure out what he was doing was wrong, he warned me that if I told anyone about it, he’d be executed. He said if he found out I’d told anyone, he’d kill me, that he’d make me disappear forever and no one would ever find out what happened to me. Cause if he was going to die for something he’d done to his brother’s child, it might as well be something that can be proven, like murder. A death for a death.”

“How long has he been doing this to you?” Sylvia hissed. “That you had to grow up in order to learn that it was wrong?”

“As far as I know, my whole life. It’s just... always been... a thing between us. I literally don’t remember a time when this wasn’t something that was happening.” She rubbed her hands together. “It stopped when I rejoined the Chantry. Six years ago, after the fight between Jack and Tomas. The only reason it stopped was because I refused to leave for two years. Revered Mother Emmaline didn’t ask questions, even when I told her I didn’t want any visitors other than Jack, Ruka or Sandra. She didn’t even question when I told her I’d prefer if people didn’t know which Trevelyan girl had joined her. She thought I’d just wanted to finish my studies without distraction. It was simple to her, she thought I didn’t want to get caught up in another fight.”

“Did she know about Alex?”

“Only in that I didn’t want him near me or the children the Chantry had taken in, the young ones training to become Templars and clerics. I... I miss them. That’s something I’ve not thought about in all the trouble that’s been happening, in everything that’s gone wrong. I miss the Chantry children. It’s like they were a part of me. I miss teaching them, and taking care of them. Hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles. I spent so much time with them, being without them feels like... like being without part of my soul.” _Does that sound stupid?_

“That’s how I felt when Josephine left home to attend school in Orlais,” Sylvia replied. “It was like she took a little part of me with her. That’s what children are, it’s what being a mother is all about. The little parts of you that the children have, even if they’re not your children. Even if you didn’t give birth to them. Did you like raising the children?”

“I did,” Andrea replied. “Ten years ago, before the Blight began, someone incorrectly told me the reason Josephine and I would never be allowed to marry each other was because two women could never have children together. That women getting married to each other would spell the end of a family. But I think that’s... wrong. Adoption is a thing that exists, and I was _sure_ it was a thing in Antiva too. If Josephine wanted kids... well it was a stupid thought. I wrote a letter to Cousin Fergus’ wife Oriana, asking her if she knew if two girls would be allowed to adopt kids in Antiva. She didn’t know the answer, so she wrote to her mother to ask. She was killed before an answer ever came.”

“Adoption is a thing in Antiva yes,” Sylvia replied. “If you and Josephine wished to go that route instead of other viable routes such as paying someone to sire your child—”

Andrea shook her head. _My child. I know how children are made. If—there’s certainly been enough times that I’ve been forced to do that... if I could... if children were possible with me... wouldn’t I have them already?_ “I don’t think that will work,” she interrupted. “All things considered—with how many times Alex and his friends forced me to have sex with them—if I were capable of conceiving a child, don’t you think I’d have at least one already?”

Sylvia nodded. “Don’t forget that you’re not the only one in this relationship. When you’re ready to take the step, and when the world is no longer falling apart around your heels, ask Josephine how _she_ wants to proceed. Just because you can’t conceive a child, doesn’t mean Josephine can’t or wouldn’t want to try. If, in the end, adoption is the route you’d want to go, I can help.”

Andrea tilted her head. “I’ve heard... bad things from Ruka about what it’s like to be with child. Ruka always gets extremely sick, and none of her children live long enough to get named—some didn’t even live long enough to be born. Both of Evelyn’s sons died before they even turned a year old. What if something like that happens to Josephine? I’ve had family that _died_ trying to give birth to their child. What if that might happen to Josie? Mama Sylvia, I don’t want to lose her like that.”

Sylvia cupped Andrea’s face and gently brushed away the tears she was choosing to ignore. “Andrea, precious, if these thoughts are hurting and scaring you this much you _need_ to talk to Josephine about them, and work through them with her. Especially in case carrying a child is something she wants to do. _My baby_ , there is nothing more important between the two of you than the happiness of you both. If you can’t talk to her honestly and openly about the things that are hurting you and scaring you, you’re both going to have a bad time with the relationship. Especially if you’re serious about wanting it to be permanent. You’re not children anymore, you can’t keep trying to hide your secrets and feelings behind a door in your heart to keep them from hurting her. It’s not safe. It’s not healthy. More importantly, it’s not going to work.”

Andrea sighed and nodded. “I want things to be easy, to be like they should be. For Josephine to be happy and safe here in Haven with me. I want to have the strength to protect her from anything that would harm her, but I can’t be around to protect her all the time, and she wouldn’t want me to think I have to. She would insist that she can protect herself, but she shouldn’t have to. I know she can protect herself. She’s not weak. I love her, Mama Sylvia. I want her to be happy.”

She took a deep breath and leaned her head against Sylvia’s for a moment, before sitting back. “I can’t focus anymore, Mama Sylvia, and it’s keeping me awake at night. Every time I try to relax and get some sleep, I hear Sandra’s voice, moments before we left for the Conclave together. ‘After this is over, we’ll go to Antiva together. You’ll see her again. You’ll see Josephine and Mama Sylvia and Yvette again. We’ll do it together.’ It’s all I can think about when I try to sleep anymore. I almost told her to wait in Haven, that I thought I’d seen Josephine and I wanted her to look around and see if I was right. That if I was right, I’d need her to help me have the courage to talk. But I didn’t. I was too afraid of being wrong about it. Now she’s dead. She and Liz and Markus are all dead. They died up there at the Conclave and it was probably my fault.”

Sylvia pulled Andrea into a hug, running her fingers through Andrea’s hair soothingly. “It’s not your fault, precious.”

Andrea shook her head, staring over Sylvia’s shoulder at the mark on her hand. “It _is._ ”

“You need to have hope,” Sylvia said. “Without hope, all those people that died will have done so in vain. The world is changing, Andrea, and like it or not you’re at the center of it. That change can be good, if you let it.”

“It’s hard to have hope that the change can be good, when you’re a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Andrea replied.

“Precious, you’re just a person,” Sylvia replied. “Don’t believe the people who say those awful things about you.”

“I’m Andraste’s Herald, if you believe that,” Andrea said. “Even as much as I want to believe I was chosen for this, that this is all part of the Maker’s grand plan for us all... You know, I used to believe that I was named after Andraste for a reason, that it somehow meant I was destined to become the Divine and change the world. To complete Andraste’s dream of seeing an end to slavery. That I’d be letting Her down if I didn’t complete Her dreams. Now, it feels like some kind of mistake.”

“Andrea, precious, you can’t be anyone other than yourself,” Sylvia argued. “Now let’s talk about something different. A soft thing, and a promise you once made.”

“Are these things the same thing?” Andrea replied.

“Yes, in a way,” Sylvia replied. “You gave Josephine something and she asked me to send it here so she could return it, ‘now that the time is right.’ Since I was already going to come to Haven, I volunteered to bring it myself. I put it in this box,” she motioned to a box behind them that Andrea had failed to notice, “and had it delivered to your room.”

“What is it?” Andrea asked. “One time I asked Josephine to look after a snake so my brothers wouldn’t kill it. She was _not_ happy. Snakes aren’t soft, though. Is it... what happened to the kitten I gave Josephine for her 14th birthday?”

“It’s not a snake,” Sylvia replied. “Nor is it Lady Fluffers or any of her, last I counted twenty, kittens. This is what you gave Josephine the day you stabbed your uncle. She said that you told her you were afraid of being sent away for what you’d done. Told her that if that happened you wanted her to have this to remember you by.” She handed Andrea the box. “You told her if you ever found each other again, later in life, and she returned this to you, you would tell her why you stabbed Alex. The truth, you promised, about what you were protecting her from that night.”

Andrea paled and shook her head. “You really think she remembers that promise?”

“I know she does, because the first and only time she told me about it was in the letter she sent asking for this to be returned,” Sylvia said. “When you first gave it to her, I thought it was nothing more than a gift, because that’s all she said about it. That you gave it to her.”

Andrea shivered as she held the box tight to her chest. “If I don’t open it—”

“Andrea, I know it pains you to think about having to confront all this, but it’s clear that Josephine needs to know,” Sylvia stated. “She wants you to tell her. If you don’t do this, you risk permanently damaging her trust in you. I already told her that I would both return Patches to you and remind you of the promise you’d made, in case you’d forgotten. For once in your life Andrea, talking about this is the only way you’re going to be able to move forward. You don’t have to be afraid of Alex. All you need to tell Josephine is that he’s a rapist and a child abuser, that’s really all she needs to know. If you can’t tell her that you’re the one he hurt, you can at least tell her that he would have hurt her.”

“I don’t have to tell her that I’m the one he raped?” Andrea asked, her hands trembling as she opened the box and retrieved Patches from the inside of it. She clutched the toy to her, running her fingers over the soft velvety purple and green fabric the small stuffed wyvern was made of. “I admit, I have missed this little guy. He was my best friend before I met Josephine. My most prized possession. Alright, Mama Sylvia, because I love you, and because I made a promise... Josephine deserves to know the truth. With Patches in hand, I’ll tell her about Alex... just... maybe... not tonight?”

“Andrea, the sooner you confront this, the sooner you’ll never have to speak of it again,” Sylvia replied.

Andrea nodded. _That’s not the way she wanted to word that, I can tell by the sound of her voice. She doesn’t want me to ignore the pain all the time, and she doesn’t think telling Josephine will stop me from hurting because of it._ “Alright, tonight. I’ll go get her, right now. Will you wait here for me? I would... feel better about it if you were present.”

“Of course, baby. I love you.”


	2. Patches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about taking risks, Andrea thinks, about following the advice of one you trust even if it hurts. It's about love, and trust, and communication. It's about the past, and moving on. It's about a little stuffed wyvern plush named Patches, and everything he stands for. It's about the future, and making plans. It's about starting to recover, slowly but surely.

Andrea held the small wyvern plush, Patches, to her chest like it was a lifeline and she were lost at sea. She hadn’t paused for a moment to even think about what she was doing between leaving her cabin and returning to the Chantry to speak with Josephine. If she thought too much about it, she was certain she’d change her mind and give up. The last thing she wanted to do was think herself into giving up on the whole endeavor. Sometimes she wished that just once, Sylvia would give her some arguably bad advice, so she wouldn’t feel bad if she ignored it.

The only thought on her mind as she walked into the Chantry was, _“All I have to do is ask her to come to my cabin.”_ But even that thought was forgotten when Solas called out to her.

“Are you feeling alright, Herald?” he asked.

For a moment, Andrea contemplated ignoring him and continuing walking. However, it was unusual that he was inside the Chantry at all, doubly so when less than an hour ago Jack had told her that he was going to learn something from Solas. _What was that again? A healing spell or something like that, right?_ She started to continue on but stopped when she saw Jack walk up, and instead nodded at them.

“Are you sure? You look a little pale,” Solas continued. “Is the mark bothering you?”

“Not right now,” she lied. _It is, a little, but I’m going to ignore it because if he wants to help with it, that will keep me from talking to Josephine, and I promised Sylvia._ “It’s fine for the moment. You did an excellent job with all that you did for it.”

Jack looked between her and Solas with a smile. “If I can learn to help her like that,” he said. “I would appreciate it. You can’t always be there to help with the Mark, so the more people that learn the spells and wards you used for it, the better we’ll be.”

Solas nodded, though he looked a little hesitant to do so, in Andrea’s opinion. “That is true enough, but that does not explain why you’ve decided _I_ have to be the one to write it all down. You are probably more versed in _writing_ about spells than I.”

“If you write it, you can be assured nothing will get lost in translation so to speak,” Jack replied, then turned toward Andrea. “Is that Patches? I thought you gave Patches to Josephine for her birthday?”

“I... Sylvia brought Patches to me because Josephine thought it would help,” Andrea replied. “A lot has happened in a really short amount of time. It... can’t be easy for either of us, you know. I miss Sandra. Josie thought it would help for me to have Patches back, since Sandra made him for me.”

“I understand,” Jack replied. “I miss Markus, I wish I could have been here to at least tell him goodbye before he went up there. As it stands, I’m probably better off than you in this regard. I did get to tell all three of them a last goodbye before they left Ostwick. Sure I expected to see them again, but you were probably _with them_ when they headed up to the Conclave. No time or reason to tell them goodbye.”

Andrea nodded slowly. She had been lying about why Patches was returned, but now that she thought about it, maybe he would help her sleep. Jack was right, of course. There had been no reason for her to tell any of them goodbye. She had been expecting to see them all again in mere moments, as far as she could remember. “It’s difficult.”

“Well, if you’re going to see Josephine,” Jack said, “there’s no reason to fear losing Patches along the way. She’s not far, and if you drop him, I’d make sure you got him back.”

“Thanks Jack, but I’m not afraid of losing him,” Andrea replied. “I don’t want to drop him because he’d get dirty.” Another lie, but she didn’t want Jack to worry about her. “Before we leave for Val Royeaux, Solas, there’s something I need to speak with you about.”

“Understood, you know where to find me,” Solas replied.

As she started to turn away, Jack spoke, “When are you going to Val Royeaux? No one told me.”

Andrea shook her head and faced him. “I need you here, Jack. Leliana and Meiriana are working on something, I have no idea what, but I can _feel it_. They’re hiding something about what’s going on, whether it’s because they don’t trust me, or because they don’t think it’s of concern to the Inquisition yet, I’m not sure. I need someone I trust here, especially if Father arrives before I get back. I need someone to keep Leliana and Sylvia from killing him.”

“I can understand why Mama Sylvia might be angry with Father, but why do you think Leliana would kill him?” Jack asked.

“I don’t,” Andrea replied. “But, I need to consider all possibilities. It’s possible Father would anger her enough that she might hurt him. I know it’s highly possible for him to anger _Sylvia_ enough she’d fight him. Father’s kind of old. If he lost to Tomas, he’d probably also lose to Sylvia.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Jack replied. “Father only lost to Tomas because Tomas cheated.”

“Sylvia wouldn’t have to cheat to beat Father, and you know it,” Andrea replied.

Jack nodded and turned away. “If you say so,” he replied. “While you’re here, Sister... is there something in my hair? I keep feeling like something is poking the back of my neck.”

Andrea sighed, tucking Patches into the waistband of her pants before stepping closer to inspect her brother’s braid. She used to be jealous of her brother’s hair, it had always grown faster than hers and felt softer. She was aware, as she gently ran her fingers down the underside of his braid, that he didn’t actually like having his hair this long. Mostly he hated that it got dirty easier this way. She’d heard him complain about it enough recently. It was confusing for her to consider, because if he didn’t like it, he could just cut it and no one would care. “You know, you wouldn’t get so much stuff,” she emphasized the word by poking his cheek with the small twig she’d pulled out of his braid before dropping it into his hand, “in your hair if you’d keep it shorter. Is that better?”

Jack tilted his head and then nodded. “Much,” he replied. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, turning and walking away, pulling Patches back into her arms as she did so. “I’m always happy to help you, little brother.” When she’d gotten close enough to touch Josephine’s door she heard Jack protest “I’m not little!” as Solas chuckled.

She paused in front of Josephine’s door and took a deep breath. _How many ways can this go wrong?_ Before she could even answer herself with just one way, she knocked on the door. Despite it being a habit she’d picked up from Sage to avoid a repeat of the DuRellion situation, Andrea only ever knocked once at a time—opposed to Sage who always knocked twice in quick succession before waiting to knock again. Whatever reason she’d given herself for the distinction, it at least worked with Josephine to tell her before entering who was at the door.

“Come in, Andrea,” Josephine called, only barely loud enough to be heard.

Andrea took a deep breath and headed into the room, intent upon simply saying that she would appreciate Josephine joining her and Sylvia for a private conversation, but tripped on her own words when she saw that she was _clearly_ interrupting a conversation between Josephine and Leliana.

“Josie, I your mother, need to speak...” She bit her lip, frowning as Leliana tilted her head in confusion, but Josephine nodded understandingly.

“Would you like to try that again?” Josephine asked.

“Very much so,” Andrea replied.

“I’m listening,” Josephine said.

“Josie, I would appreciate if you’d... I... we need to talk,” she said. _Why won’t the words just... work?_ It wasn’t the worst wording she’d ever used, but clearly it made Josephine nervous.

Josephine frowned. “I’m assuming this requires a private conversation?”

Andrea nodded nervously and held Patches up slightly so Josephine could see him. “Please?” she added. “Mama Sylvia is waiting for us. I promised.”

At that statement, Josephine nodded and replied softly, “Where are we meeting? Your room, I’d assume?” When Andrea nodded, she continued, “I’ll be done with Leliana here in a moment. If you’re heading back now, please tell my mother that I will be joining you shortly.”

She was thankful that Josephine had assumed the right meeting place, because she felt really stupid not knowing what the proper term for the place in Haven where she slept was. She knew a lot of words, but none of them felt right. She had never lived outside the protective walls of Ostwick before, Haven was so small compared to it. Her mind was having a difficult time reconciling that the smaller versions of buildings that Haven held, could use the same words as the much larger ones within Ostwick.

After a second of hesitation, she nodded and gave Josephine a half smile. “Thank you.” As she turned to leave, Sage’s absence from the room suddenly made itself known to her. It wasn’t unusual, she knew Sage probably had other things to do. Probably had gone off to find her sister or something to eat, or both. She shook her head slightly, and continued on. When she passed by Jack and Solas, they were having a lighthearted argument about whether or not hair length had anything at all to do with magical skill. Solas seemed to be winning solely by virtue of being bald. _They’re so ridiculous sometimes._ She would have laughed but she was afraid of making them angry.

Outside the Chantry, she paused and waited. With no one around to question her, she leaned against the wall and just let the cold breeze sweep over her and the chill ground her. _What if she hates me after I tell her? What if... what if she doesn’t even believe me?_ However briefly, she almost forgot that she was supposed to be returning to Sylvia _before_ Sylvia began thinking that she had given up.

Standing in front of the Chantry, she felt both nauseous and like her stomach was frozen solid. Trying to ignore those feelings seemed a better option. Everything felt preferable to thinking, for even a moment, about the fact that she was risking her entire relationship with Josephine by agreeing to tell her the truth about what she’d been through. She only allowed herself a moment more of quiet fear before moving on, knowing that the longer she took, the more likely it was that Sylvia would come looking for her.

As she entered the cottage, Sylvia called out to her.

“You had me worried, Andrea. Did you ask Josephine to join us? I sincerely hope you did not give up on the idea.”

“She’ll be joining us, no matter how much I really wish I _had_ given up on the idea,” Andrea replied. “When I got there she was speaking with Leliana about something.” She walked over to her sleeping area and placed Patches on her table, then she picked up her hairbrush from beside him and ran it through her hair, though she almost immediately stopped when it caught on some stubborn tangles. “I want a haircut.”

“What prompted that?” Sylvia asked, walking over and gently retrieving the brush to work on the tangles herself. “Your hair is beautiful, it just requires a little care and patience.”

“It’s difficult to keep up that care and patience, and the effort it takes to keep my hair out of my face, when I’m fighting a war,” Andrea replied. “If I was still privileged with the time it takes to maintain my hair, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t regret it?” Sylvia asked as she brushed out Andrea’s hair with the expertise of someone who had done it a million times before. “The Andrea I knew loved taking care of her long beautiful hair because it reminded her of the times she spent learning to do so from her mother.”

Andrea nodded. “The Andrea you knew was a teenager. If I dislike how it looks, I can let it grow back out again. It does remind me of my mother, but I have so many other things that remind me of her. I could use more things like Patches that just remind me of who I am. It hurts, Mama Sylvia, but mother has been gone for nearly twenty years. I don’t want to forget her, but I’ve spent so much of that time living in her shadow because of how much I remind other people of her. I want... I want to be _me_ for once. I want people to look at me and know who I am, and not have to hear ‘she looks so much like her mother did’ anymore. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No, Andrea precious, that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Sylvia replied. “But how much of this is just you being tired of how much thinking about your past hurts you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Andrea replied. “But if I do things for me, simply because I want to, maybe that will make it hurt less to look back at how things used to be? I... I don’t see changes. I need to see changes. I think. I need to see that all of my effort _means something,_ otherwise what was the point of making that effort? The Inquisition is about change. It’s about the future, about moving forward and connecting things. About bringing people together to fight for a common goal, about taking the wrongs of the past and repairing them, turning them into the rights of tomorrow. This war is a storm, and the Inquisition is about weathering the storm—repairing your ship in the middle of the roughest waves and harshest winds so that you can live to sail on when the storm has passed. I want... I want this thing to succeed where the Chantry unfortunately failed. In order to do that, I can’t keep getting stuck dwelling on my past wishing that there was something I could have done differently. If I’m always looking back, I’ll never see what I’m about to walk into.”

“Ah, but Andrea dear, if you _never_ look back, you won’t see what’s trying to sneak up behind you,” Sylvia replied. “All of life is a balancing act, and like it or not, _my baby_ , you’re going to have to come to terms with your past in order to grant yourself the future peace you’re so interested in obtaining.”

“I am trying, Mama Sylvia,” Andrea replied, “but it’s hard. It hurts so much sometimes that I’m not completely sure if I’m really here in the present day, or stuck in the past with everything that’s happened being some kind of bad dream that I can’t escape. It’s like somewhere inside of me, child Andrea is talking to grown-up Andrea, trying to get her to stop hiding behind the closet door, while grown-up Andrea doesn’t know how she got behind the door in the first place. Grown-up Andrea is convinced it’s child Andrea hiding and neither of them can reach the door handle. None of that made any sense. I’m... sometimes I’m not completely convinced child Andrea and grown-up Andrea aren’t exactly the same person. I don’t know if I just... never grew up or if there was never a ‘child’ me at all. Looking back and trying to pinpoint what’s different is like... looking into a cracked mirror and not being able to tell where the damage is on you and where’s it just that the mirror is broken.”

Sylvia frowned but didn’t reply.

_Does she think I’m wrong? Am I wrong? Does she just not understand what I meant? Am I just being stupid and ridiculous right now? Is... Am I actually wrong? What if all of this is just in my head and none of it ever really happened? There’s so much I don’t know and so many things that don’t add up. How can I ever truly come to terms with all of this if I’m not entirely sure how much is real and how much was nothing more than bad dreams brought on by worse knowledge of the true horrors my cousins endured? How much of all this is me mistaking a man for a monster simply because of how he is to his children? How much is true? How could I be the only Trevelyan who can’t conceive children? How is it no one figured it out when so many of Alex’s friends participated and none of them were part of the family? How does something like this stay secret for so long? Can I ever learn to come to terms with, and accept this, when the nightmares leave me shaking for hours, too scared to move in case it’s all real again and the memories leave me feeling like I have to throw up?_

“Do you know why I care so much about you, Andrea?” Sylvia asked.

Andrea blinked and sighed as she retrieved Patches from where she’d placed him on the table, now distracted _from_ her thoughts instead of _by_ them. “Because I love Josephine and she loves me?”

“Because you’re a person,” Sylvia replied. “Because you’re a person and you care. You’ve grown so much in the years I’ve known you and I don’t just mean physically. A few years ago, you wouldn’t have even considered _thinking_ about confronting any of this, now you’ve agreed to try just to get it out of your head. Andrea, precious, I care about you because you deserve to be cared about.

“Have you considered maybe grown up Andrea is the same person as child Andrea, just having learned and grown? I know, looking back at yourself as a child you might wonder: How is it possible that someone so small, so weak so vulnerable and innocent to the ways of the world could become so strong, so big, someone we recognize who is so wise to the ways of the world that remembering the times we weren’t physically aches in sympathy for all the pain they went through? We are blessed with a gift from the Maker, the ability to grow and change, to learn from our past and become stronger because of it. Try to trust me, Andrea, if nothing else, you’ve learned from the pain you’ve suffered.”

Andrea shook her head. “All I learned is that Alex is an ass, just like Tomas, and both of them are problems that can only be solved through murder. There’s nothing to do with Alex that wouldn’t be improved or fixed by a sword through him.” She stared at Patches unblinking for a moment before looking up at Sylvia, who did not seem at all surprised by her uncharacteristically harsh words.

“You dislike violence?” Sylvia prompted. “Always did.”

“You can charm the feathers off a bird, but you can’t talk a forest fire out of burning,” Andrea replied. “I might not agree with the methods, but violence and physical threats are all Tomas understands. You can’t out strategize someone for whom chess is a contact sport. As far as Alex goes, however, he dug his own grave. He knowingly, willingly violated a law for which the punishment is execution.”

“Would you really be willing to execute your own uncle?” Sylvia asked.

“Were his victim not myself, yes. Without a moment’s hesitation, all things considered. Upholding the law, even against family, is a duty I would have. It’s a duty I would not shirk from.”

She paused for a moment considering, then said, “To truly understand how easy it is to displace a ruling family when things go awry, look no further than the Howe family and how quickly they lost Amaranthine after the Blight. It’s not the best comparison to what would happen, but Olivia has ran enough corrupt Templars out of Ostwick due to this exact law that there is a large percentage of the population of Ostwick with reason to burn our family to the ground if we start making exceptions about such a strict law due to family dynamics and the relationship between the throne and the accused. If I were Teyrna, and one of my siblings informed me that Alex had done to them what he did to me, without hesitation I would have him tried and executed according to the letter of the law. He doesn’t deserve to, and cannot be allowed to, get away with violating this law just because he is also a Trevelyan.”

Sylvia nodded. “You would be a good ruler,” she said, “but you learned more than just that Alex is an ass. You also learned just how privileged your family believes themselves to be. No one should be above the law.”

Andrea blinked. “That is true.” She nodded and kissed Patches head. “Not even dragons are above the law.”

Sylvia laughed. “What will you do? Charge a dragon with property damage?”

“Why not if the dragon is guilty,” Andrea replied. “Determine its guilt then hire a Penteghast to hunt it.”

Sylvia chuckled. “Can I expect to hear stories of you and Cassandra hunting dragons together? You charge them with a crime and Cassandra delivers the punishment?”

“No one is hunting dragons, yet,” Andrea said smiling. “They have to commit a crime first and when they do, we’ll be ready.”

“Are you also going to make dragons pay taxes?”

Andrea blinked. “ _Do dragons have money?”_ she wondered aloud. “I thought they only steal livestock and sometimes people.”

“Popular legends hold that dragons guard treasures and hoard shiny things,” Sylvia said, “so maybe they have gold or silver in their treasure hoard?”

“I don’t know that I’d want to test this theory,” Andrea said. “Do we really want to risk the lives of tax collectors trying to assess the taxable value of dragon hoard if it might not even be a real thing?”

“Even dragons aren’t above the law,” Sylvia joked.

Andrea smiled. “But are dragons subject to tax laws if their wealth is only theoretical and you know, guarded by a dragon?”

Sylvia shrugged. “That’s debatable.” She tapped Patches. “Many things would have to be considered. Where is the hoard located? Do the tax laws require wealth that’s not being used to purchase to be taxed? Do you really want to try to tax a creature arguably more powerful and with more authority than you?”

“What are you debating?”

Andrea looked away from Patches and Sylvia to see Josephine removing her coat in the doorway. She hadn’t heard the door, but Josephine _must_ have only just arrived or she’d already know what the debate is about. “Should dragons have to pay taxes?” she replied. “If they’re smart enough to hoard treasure, should their treasure hoard be taxed?”

“Who is trying to tax a dragon?” Josephine asked moving to sit on Andrea’s bed. “Probably more important, _why_ are they trying to tax a dragon?”

“It’s only a theory,” Andrea replied. “Something to keep my mind busy. We tax the dragon because no one should be above the law. Not even dragons.”

Josephine nodded. “Are these theoretical dragons _aware_ of the law? It is unwise to punish one that genuinely does not know the law. Surely it is unfair to expect compliance without first ensuring they know what they’re supposed to be complying to.”

Andrea tilted her head and blinked. “That’s a good point. If they don’t know the laws, we’ll have to educate them on the laws before we can determine that they’re committing crimes willingly and not just without realizing that it’s illegal.”

“What do you believe to be the wisest course of action then, Andrea?” Josephine asked. “Should we start a school for the dragons?”

“A school isn’t a bad idea,” Andrea replied. “Not for dragons though, they might eat the teachers, but for children and people moving to the area from somewhere else. We can’t expect people to follow the laws if they aren’t aware the laws exist. We should educate _everyone_ on the laws so ignorance of the laws won’t be a viable excuse. Post the relevant laws in public places as well.”

“Andrea will make an excellent ruler someday,” Sylvia said.

“Only if Tomas abdicates,” Josephine replied.

“I plan on instigating a coup when the Inquisition no longer needs me,” Andrea replied. “There’s got to be some political way, some method to force Tomas off the throne, but if that fails, poison and knives exist. It might not take assassins, maybe just the thought of assassins would be enough.”

Josephine frowned. “Since when are you one to advocate _murder_ as a solution to your problems?”

“Since this _problem_ already tried to _kill me_ once,” Andrea replied. “Whether or not murder is ever _actually_ a proper solution to problems, there are times when it is the only solution that will work. I don’t want to argue about this. The only people capable of seizing the throne from Tomas would lose in a one to one duel with him. So long as Alex still stands behind Tomas for the throne that is what it would come down to.”

“What would it take for Tomas to lose Alex’s support?” Josephine asked. “If that’s what would cripple Tomas’ claim to the throne, what would it take?”

“Alex would have to die,” Andrea replied.

“Didn’t you already try—and fail—to do that once before?” Josephine replied.

“Killing Alex was _not_ the intent that day,” Andrea replied. “Protecting you from a rapist was my only goal.”

It was a moment of silence from all three women before Andrea realized what had just happened. As her own words hit her, so did Josephine’s silence. _What have I done?_

Josephine’s words, when she finally replied, were like a knife to Andrea’s soul. “Just because he touched me when I said not to, does not make him a rapist.”

Andrea nodded slowly. _She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I over reacted. Is... she mad now? What do I say?_

“Just because you dislike your uncle does not mean you need to accuse him of attempting a crime you have no proof he intended to commit,” she continued.

Andrea placed a hand on Sylvia’s arms when she saw her about to take a stance on this matter. This needed to be handled between the two of them. Her and Josephine, like the adults they were. _What do I say? How do I tell her? She needs to know. She has to understand. I can’t be with her if she doesn’t understand and accept both what I did and why. Our relationship and everything about us as a pair will crumble if this isn’t dealt with here and now. But how? I think I’m going to be sick._

“Is that overprotective anger of yours the _only_ reason you have? That idea in your head that you were somehow saving me, is that really all it took?”

Andrea bit her lip.

“Do you truly believe your uncle to be a rapist? What proof do you have? Andrea I can stand a lot of selfish overprotective tendencies you have towards people like me that don’t want to be involved in fighting,” Josephine argued. “But some lines should not be crossed.”

“It’s not a _belief_ ,” Andrea said. “It’s a fact. My uncle Alex is a rapist and a child abuser. You know of the abuse my cousins faced at the hands of their father.”

“None of that makes him a rapist,” Josephine stated. “I understand that you hate your uncle for what he did to your cousins, but that’s not... what they went through was not rape.”

“No, it’s not. But what _I_ went through _was_ ,” Andrea snapped, shaking as tears came to her eyes.

 _“Let me be clear about this, Andrea. If you ever tell anyone about what I’ve done to you, I will kill you before they execute me,”_ Alex’s voice echoed through her head as she buried her head against Patches. _What have I done? What have I done?_ Cold fear gripped at her head as she felt a hand on her back and instinctively sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and pressing her head against them trying to be as small as possible. _“I shouldn’t have said that.” I shouldn’t. I should not have said anything. Alex is going to kill me. Josie is angry. She doesn’t believe me. I’ve ruined everything. Again. I’ve ruined this._

She felt the tears running down her cheeks, stinging her eyes. The hand on her arm. Instinctively, she balled herself up tighter. _What have I done?_ The voices she heard, but they were so far away from her that she couldn’t understand them. A touch on her shoulder, she jerked away from. Curling almost impossibly tight. _Stop! Don’t hurt me again! Please._ The voice in her head was so young, so scared. She could scarcely believe it was her own.

The absence of all touch was jarring and cold. _Where did they go? What have I done? Did they leave? Are they mad? Am I going to die? “I’m sorry,”_ whether the choked words were voiced or merely thought, she wasn’t sure. _“I’m sorry that I never told you, Josie. Alex said he’d kill me if he found out I told anyone.”_

The answer to her fear was gentle but forceful enough that she was _sure_ she didn’t imagine it.

“I love you, Andrea.” It was Josephine’s voice, she knew. “Please look at me.”

Andrea shook her head. Her eyes stung from the crying. She knew how bad she must look. If she looked even half as bad as she felt, she didn’t want Josephine to see. “It _hurts_.” But what even was _it_ anymore? Clearly no longer a secret, clearly still just as painful. “I’m scared.”

“Annie, please,” Josephine said, “please look at me.”

Andrea blinked back tears and looked up. “You haven’t called me Annie since we were 10.”

“I haven’t needed you to hear me above your own pain since we were 10,” Josephine replied. “Annie is a magic nickname. It’s mine and mine alone. No one else calls you Annie.”

“I’m scared, Josie,” Andrea replied. “Uncle Alex will kill me if he learns that I told you and Sylvia about what he did.”

“I know it hurts, Annie, but what exactly happened between the two of you? Does it have anything to do with the ‘friends’ of your uncle that I stabbed in the hand with a fork for touching me?”

Andrea nodded. “I don’t remember how it started. Or when. I was too small to remember. He called it a game, and then a secret, just something between us. I couldn’t tell anyone, it was against the rules of the game. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore. I didn’t understand anything more than it felt wrong. It hurt, it wasn’t a fun game. I didn’t want to play. I wanted it to all stop. I stopped eating. He always said that he liked how I was the... that I wasn’t all ‘muscle and bones’ like my sisters, that I had ‘poof’. I stopped eating. ‘If I loose all my poof maybe the game will end,’ I had thought. I was wrong. I don’t remember when his friends got involved.

“There was presents, bribes really. ‘Do this and I’ll buy you whatever you want.’ ‘Don’t tell your mom and I will get Ruka to teach you how to write.’ ‘If you do this thing for my friends and I, we’ll keep the _boring_ nobles from talking to you at Lucielle’s next ball.’ ‘You’re my favorite niece.’

“Later it was threats. I was older and learning the laws from Mama Trevelyan. She taught me about the laws regarding sex, taught me what sex was. Warned me that because I was beautiful like my mother, young noble boys would want me. I laughed it off. ‘The Maker only gave me eyes so I could gaze upon the beauty of Josephine Montilyet,’ I had told her. She said that wouldn’t matter to the boys and I should be wary of them.

“I confronted Alex, alone, when he came to my room. He pinned me against the wall and said, ‘Now that you know the truth, you know if you tell anyone I’ll be executed, so let me be clear about this, Andrea. If you _ever_ tell anyone about what I’ve done to you, I _will_ kill you before they execute me.’ He got mean after that, or maybe aggressive is the better word.”

She looked down at Patches for a moment and sighed. “Alex is a man who will not take no for an answer unless it is accompanied by the pointy end of a knife. That’s why I stabbed him. I... it was my fault he hurt you. I made him angry, and hurting me, threats against me, were no longer enough to make me stop fighting him. You gave me confidence, you made me think that I was better than that, that I could fight and win. You loved me, and it made me want to take control of my life back.

“So he threatened you. His plan was first you, then me, and neither of us would survive the night. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do _something._ I was so afraid that if I did nothing, that would be our last night alive. I _knew_ no matter what I did I wouldn’t survive the night unless Alex was incapable of retaliating. I honestly didn’t think I would still be alive for much longer after what I did. I was _sure_ that Alex would kill me when he recovered. That’s why I gave you Patches—my most prized possession—and made that promise. I thought I would not live to have to fulfill it.”

“You made the promise to tell me, because you thought you wouldn’t live long enough to _actually_ have to tell me,” Josephine asked. “Why?”

“I incorrectly assumed that you’d tell your mother and she would tell you what I had told her,” Andrea replied.

Josephine nodded, “Perhaps if the worst had come to pass, I would have. What should I do if Alex shows up here with as little warning as Mother did?”

“Pray to the Maker that never happens,” Andrea replied.

“He risks igniting a war if he dares harm the Herald of Andraste,” Sylvia replied. “Still, given the circumstances, it’s probably best if no one does anything to show that we know what he did... Andrea would be safer that way. I doubt he would kill the Herald before the Breach is sealed. But it may still be wise to warn the Seeker and Spymaster that Alex and Tomas view Andrea as their biggest rival and it may cause trouble for the Inquisition.”

“There’s no reason they would need any further details,” Andrea mused. “Right? We just warn them they might try to interfere or harm the Inquisition in some way so they can keep an eye out for that possible trouble?”

Josephine nodded. “All things considered, that’s a wise course of action.” She held out her hand to Andrea.

Andrea accepted the hand and allowed Josephine to pull her up off the floor. “Thank you,” she said, “for not hating me.”

“Why would I hate you?” Josephine asked as she guided Andrea by the hand over to the bed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because of what Alex did,” Andrea replied, taking a seat and sighing. “You sounded so angry when I first brought it up. I thought you didn’t believe me. I hid it for so long, and I was so scared. There are plenty of reasons you could pick to hate me. I didn’t fight hard enough to make Alex stop hurting me. I gave up, hid in the Chantry and asked Revered Mother Emmaline to refuse him access to me and the Chantry children. Because I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” Josephine replied. “You stabbed your uncle despite thinking it would result in your death, just because you hoped it might save my life. Yes, I was angry, I didn’t understand. It’s a difficult thing to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself. I really thought you were just overreacting. But you weren’t, and it’s _my mistake_ for not believing you over something that I didn’t have any information about. You’re brave. It takes courage to tell your superior to deny access to you, even if you didn’t say why. Andrea, you’re brave. Strong. Kind. Beautiful. I’m glad you told me about this, even if it makes me angry to think your uncle would dare harm you in that way. I must admit though. Now _I_ am afraid.”

“Afraid?” Andrea asked. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

“No, not for me. For Elysia and Cadence,” Josephine replied. “Your cousins, girls that are younger than you. If Alex... likes young girls... what’s to stop him from trying to harm them the same way he harmed you?”

“Aunt Marie will not let Alex near her children, so Elysia is much safer than I was,” Andrea replied. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, I am very worried about Cade. Her mother is the youngest of Mama Trevelyan’s kids, she probably doesn’t know why people dislike Alex. I’ll need to write to her, warn her. I don’t know what I’d say exactly, but there has to be some way to warn her to keep Alex away from Cade.”

“A good way to start might be asking her if Alex has been around her children,” Sylvia replied. “Why does Marie keep Alex away from her children? It might be good to tell Fantasia about that, or suggest she talk to Marie about it.”

“He opposed the law,” Andrea reminded her. “The law Father wrote while she was still grieving over her child. The law created because it shouldn’t ever have been legal to harm a child in that way. The law that any decent human with nothing to hide and no reason to fear punishment under should have a reason to oppose. She doesn’t know why he was against the law, or she probably would have already had him tried and executed under it, but just the fact that he was is enough reason for her to despise him.”

“The law?” Josephine asked.

“Short version is: ‘rape is a crime punishable by execution, _especially_ if the victim is a child,’” Andrea replied. She knew Josephine had not been present for any of her earlier conversation with Sylvia, but she hated repeating herself.

“And Alex publicly opposed this law?” Josephine asked. “Maker, he must be stupid. If you’re going to break a law, you must openly declare support for it to throw suspicion off yourself.”

Despite the situation and contest, Andrea laughed at that. “Well, well, Lady Josephine, should we be worried about the legality of your actions for the Inquisition if that’s the way you feel about laws?”

Josephine frowned. “Really, Andrea, I would think you know me better than that.”

“It was a _joke_ ,” Andrea replied. “I know you don’t completely understand, but I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams right now. I have to find some little threads in this situation that I can pull tight without hurting.” She sighed and held Patches out to Josephine. “Remember when we were younger and you asked me why I like you so much?”

“Vaguely, why?” Josephine replied.

“Because it’s important,” Andrea replied. “You asked me why I liked you and I replied that it’s because talking to you is easy. You’re interesting and charming and intelligent and pretty, but most important was that talking to you is easier than talking to anyone else.”

“Odd that you would say that,” Slyvia said, “when you struggle so much to tell her the things that hurt you.”

Andrea nodded. “That’s the point.”

“I’m confused,” Josephine said, “if you’re struggling, how is it easy?”

Andrea frowned. “It’s easy because I can do it, even if I have to struggle and it hurts. It’s easy because you _listen_ without _interrupting._ If I struggle, you wait for me. Other people ask questions, press issues, try to pry the words out of me without giving me time to determine which thought is the one I need to voice.” She smiled. “Other people pull the threads of my words while I’m still sewing them together, until all the hard work pulling them together in my brain is undone. You see the thread dangling but wait for me to finish sewing before you tug on it to make sure it’s secure.”

There was a moment of silence, then Josephine replied, “I have no idea what that metaphor is supposed to mean.”

Andrea nodded. “That’s okay. That’s why talking to you is easy. Talking is quilting.”

Sylvia nodded as well. “I think I understand. You’re trying to say that you like the fact that Josephine always lets you finish talking before she’ll comment or reply on or about what you’re saying, right? That’s what makes it easy even when you’re struggling?”

“Yeah!” She smiled. “Even if Josie doesn’t understand, she still lets me finish saying it before she asks for clarification.”

“Oh,” Josephine exclaimed. “‘Talking is quilting.’ You don’t just mean any random sewing metaphor. You say that because of Patches and Sandra’s quilting. You remember how annoying it was when Sandra was watching over us as we watched Matthias and he kept pulling the threads out of your quilt as Sandra tried to fix it for you. You’re saying your thoughts are like the quilt patches and voicing them is like pulling the needle and thread through to hold them all together?”

Andrea nodded excitedly. “Yes! And people interrupting is like Matthias pulling the threads out before they get tied off. Sometimes the interruption causes the whole quilt to come apart, sometimes it’s just one patch falls off.”

“I’ve heard people talk about your ability to make speeches,” Josephine said. “How do those play into this?”

“I have to be allowed to think before I speak, or be speaking about something I’ve been thinking a whole lot about. Cassandra and Leliana are getting better at letting me finish thinking and speaking before they interrupt and other people have convinced themselves it’s rude to try to speak over _Andraste’s Herald._ For Leliana, she mentioned that Meiriana has a similar issue, I think. That’s why Meiriana talks with her hands so much, it’s easier.”

“As long as you’re given sufficient time to think, you can craft words into beautiful sentences that inspire people,” Josephine said. “Does that about sum it up?”

Andrea smiled and nodded slightly. “When I came to get you earlier, what were you and Leliana discussing?”

“Leliana is going to discuss it with you tomorrow,” Josephine replied. “It’s better if you hear it from her.”

Andrea frowned. _That’s concerning. Is it something I did? Are we expecting another unexpected guest?_ “What happens now?” she asked. “Now that I’ve told you about the thing I’ve been keeping secret for so long, what happens next? It feels... unwise... to think I’ll be able to go back to pretending like it never happened.”

“What do you want to do?” Josephine replied.

“I want to sleep,” Andrea replied. “I’m _tired._ ”

“If you’re tired and want to sleep, then that’s what you should do next,” Josephine replied.

“Can I sleep for the rest of the week and not have to do anything else until time to leave for Val Royeaux?” Andrea asked. _Maybe that’s the only way to stop dreaming about Sandra._

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Josephine replied. “Let’s go get something to eat, and if you still feel tired, you can come back and go to bed early tonight. But I’m going to send Sage to wake you in the morning because it’s not good to sleep all day. You’re not feeling sick, are you? You look a little pale.”

“I feel fine,” Andrea lied. _I don’t but it’s stress, all that’ll fix this is a nap._ “Solas mentioned the paleness too, I think it’s—” _definitely stress_ “—probably related to the mark.”

“Are you going to come join Mother and I for a meal?” Josephine asked.

Andrea nodded. “Don’t send Sage too early in the morning. I want to sleep in, I’ll be training with Cassandra tomorrow afternoon and I want to have enough energy for that.”

“If you want,” Sylvia said, “let’s go to the tavern you mentioned earlier. Is there a minstrel there or will we just have to convince you to do it, Andrea?”

“I am _not singing_ ,” Andrea replied. “Maryden knows enough songs to entertain the entire Inquisition from now until the world falls apart.”

Sylvia laughed. “But I love hearing you sing.”

Andrea sighed and shook her head. “Still not doing it. No matter how you ask, nor how many times you ask, it isn’t going to happen. We have someone whose entire job it is to sing. There’s no need for me to do it.”

Josephine sighed and placed a hand gently on Andrea’s arm. “No one is going to make you sing.”

“Promise?” Andrea replied. “Cause if I have to sing as a condition of going, then I’m not going. I don’t want to sing tonight.”

“Andrea, I promise no one is going to make you sing,” Josephine replied. “Now, let’s head over there and get all warmed up inside with some good food, before the snow starts to fall tonight.”

 


End file.
